Warhammer: Start with a dog

Chapter 582 Draw Your Sword, Madam-

"'... the entire galaxy should be united under the jurisdiction of a single monarch. Only the only human empire can ensure the rule of peace and justice, so that people can fully develop their inherent talents, live and work in peace, and obtain worldly happiness; and as the representative of the only true God, the Pope will govern the church of the entire galaxy and guide people to reach the peaceful place under the jurisdiction of God in the afterlife and obtain eternal happiness. The emperor's power in the world comes from God, not from the Pope, so the empire and the church will be separated and parallel'-but if the emperor's authority comes from his own divinity rather than from other things, how should the empire and the church deal with the status of both parties? Haven't such practical considerations been thought about? I only see a lot of idealized selfish utopias."-Someone scribbled notes on the blank space at the end of the handwritten sacred words.

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When seeing that "Robert Guilliman" was really in the picture drawn by fate, he should have been "bright and alert, wise, with surging hope and vitality of life all over his body", "holding the Emperor's sword to sweep away all evil Chaos heretics" and "saving the loyal Emperor's people and his descendants here".

This Primarch, who is currently the only one in the Empire with a complete body that can be traced and recorded and has been publicly stared at for ten thousand years, has made this serious painting of taking out a big sword of the wrong color made by his father with one hand, and taking out the Black Flame Holy Words signed by a Primarch with the other hand, and using his powerful psychic power to siphon the souls of heretics, no one can resist, no one can resist, his lips are stained with blood, like a hell scroll of the devil appearing in the world.

——You [High Gothic swear words] What's the difference between this and announcing in public, "We Ultramarines have surrendered to Chaos, so let's raise the flag, sons, your father is now the eternally chosen of the Chaos Gods!" ! ! ! ! !

A certain immortal who did not faint even after being drained of his power and burned to ashes ten thousand years ago, and who still had a trace of regret to tell, and the chancellor of the Empire who could still scold the Primarch, finally experienced what it felt like to be "angered to the point of unconsciousness" again after 16,000 years.

His world fell into darkness as he wished, and before Malcador fainted from anger, he thought for a moment, "Whoever wants to care this time can care, I don't care."

The Honor Guards and officers who had just fought hard against the attackers in the Temple of Rectification now stood there in shock, as if struck by lightning. The Ultramarines were not members of some legions who could become captains or warmasters without even graduating from kindergarten. They had received systematic and good military school education before becoming members of the Empire's Angels of Death, at least at the level of a junior high school diploma. Therefore, with their genetically enhanced brains, everyone's logic naturally provided them with an inference that was not far from the conclusion of the former Imperial Chancellor in a ten-thousandth of a second.

——It's over. Our descendants have been loyal to the Empire for ten thousand years. Why did you, the Primarch, surrender to the enemy after your resurrection? !

Calgar let out a grief-stricken cry, and the fresh blood from the internal wounds that ruptured again flowed down his mouth and nose. "I remember! This must be the conspiracy of the hateful Night Lord traitor!!! Digris! We must stop this!"

"...Take a break, my lord, you will die if you move again." Digris sighed with a breeze of psychic spells, pushing the unwilling warband leader into an immobile state forcefully and gently.

The chief think tank, who had been thought to have been too damaged by the psychic prophecy and became crazy, became the only one who was calm and had enough time to use psychic power to control the battlefield and his brothers in the vortex of self-doubt and disbelief.

He raised his staff, "...I have already warned you, brothers...but I have no intention of blaming you. Such a powerful force of destiny is not something that a small individual can bear. I have glimpsed and accepted the new destiny, but it may take some time for you to accept it. I ask you not to hurt yourself."

The power of the gods of the highest heaven and the demons under their command rode the waves of the warp to enjoy the deliciousness of a grand sacrifice from the most unlikely sacrifice.

Only the scarlet road rushing out of the Eye of Fear seemed like a dazzling, clown smile in the dark starry sky.

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"Did you forget to say something, lady?"

Just as the Living Saint was so shocked by witnessing this extremely blasphemous miracle that even his holy body began to dissipate, the "Primarch" who had just "eaten" the vitality and souls of all the wizards who sacrificed to him in the temple and the Chaos Warriors who tried to resist jumped lightly from the high platform of the throne and landed in front of them. The heavy, exquisite and complicated armor of destiny seemed to be nothing on him, and even its maker was so shocked that he couldn't speak at this moment.

"I..."

The Living Saint opened her lips, but didn't know what to say.

She raised her eyes and raised her neck to stare at the tall and majestic body of the Primarch, who was definitely not an ordinary person.

Is this the realization of her long-cherished wish and her mission?

The biological son of a God-Emperor has truly returned to this dark and broken world, but will he lead the empire to rise again and defeat the darkness that wants to devour the empire day and night?

Was he really the man she had been waiting for and praying to her God-Emperor to give them?

"Hurry up." She heard the spokesman of destruction say gently, "After you have finished speaking, you can rest this time. We will meet on the other side of the galaxy, Saint Celestine."

She suddenly opened her eyes wide, and a wave of memories surged from the distant corpses. She remembered her last, last, and previous ten deaths, and she understood why she was here.

When she looked at the scene around her again, she already understood what was going to happen next, so she smiled at her companions who were also starting to disappear.

Then he crossed his fingers and bowed his head in prayer.

"Thank you," Saint Celestine prayed at the scene of Robert Guilliman's resurrection in the Solemn Temple. She raised her face towards the distant direction of Holy Terra, as if looking up at an invisible and extremely tall golden On the throne, a tear reflecting the golden light slowly dripped down her smooth ivory face, "Thank you, Lord of the Shining Light; how can we be so virtuous that you love us so much that you gave him to us."

The Inquisitor's brows were still frowning, but when she tried to do anything, it was too late. She looked at her palms that were dissipating in the air in surprise. Around her, except for the Gray Knights led by Grand Master Ahriman, Except for Belisarius Caul, Everenne and Malcador, all the other companions and her subordinates who came along the way began to fade away like her own body, without any feeling or pain. Pain and fear.

The last white wings of the living saint spread out and wrapped around these confused phantoms, and then the gentle nothingness embraced them.

When everything dissipated in the air, only a few people at the scene and more Ultramarines solidified by Diglis remained.

Finally, Diglis sighed, appearing to have aged for centuries in an instant, "Your Excellency..." He was about to say something, when the giant wearing the gorgeous armor made for his original body waved his hand towards him and looked at him. To the Shadow Daughter who became very nervous.

"Look what I do? We have gone through many hardships and trekked here to resurrect you. Shouldn't you give us some explanation for this?" The priestess of Death unfolded her blade fan and wrinkled He frowned, and at the same time circulated the power of the dead in his body, ready to be ready in case of emergency——

"Draw your sword, my lady," this "Robert Guilliman" said to her in an elegant Eldar tongue, and repeated it in High Gothic, "and strike it."

Full of doubts and vigilance, Ifreni drew out her old woman's sword, the Sword of Sorrow Kevir, and looked at the demigod who was surrounded by colorful psychic fires in her eyes, but no color really penetrated him. The place pointed by the body.

It is a thick power supply cable. Judging from the direction and position of its extension, it is obvious that this is the cable that supplies power to the throne of the shrine where he was sitting before.

You've already come down and made this place like this, why do you still...

She was confused and did not ask the question, but combined with what she had just seen, a flash of understanding flashed through her mind.

Efreni pursed her lips, raised the old woman's sword high above her head, and cut the power supply cable as easily as breaking paper.

The moment she cut it off.

Everyone in all the temples, outside the temples, outside the fortress, inside and outside Magna City, and even Macragge suddenly felt a lightness or clarity, as if the shadow that had been covering the eyes of their souls was expelled. The hope for tomorrow, the path to the future suddenly becomes clear and solid.

"Well..." "Robert Guilliman" nodded, "There should be nothing left to check off the to-do list now."

"This incarnation spell is really well used. This spell is not a secret, but few people have the power and sophistication to completely simulate the dynamics and breath of the original body," Grand Master Ahriman said with emotion in his voice. He came forward and said, "This spell you used is nine times as good as the father of our genes. Long time no see, Robert. The last time we met was in the Jericho sector."

"Long time no see, Ahriman." The man who also had Robert as a medium nodded and replied, "Jericho? You were not who you are now, congratulations, but you can't take it off, right?"

"Indeed not," Ahriman replied. "Also, the good news is that it can be removed, but you can only talk to the people you want to see at a time."

"What an interesting subject," Julius Robert Omar's blue eyes flashed happily like luminous sapphires, "Our Lord Malcador wakes up, let us start to deal with the details of the aftermath one by one. Bar."

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"Can the next things be dealt with directly?"

"My Lord said -"

"——Don't worry about the details."

They looked at each other and smiled.

But Malcador, who had just woken up, stood up and stood between them, looking like he was not smiling at all.

"You'd better give me a proper explanation." Veins protruded on his face, "otherwise I will blow you up to the sky with this place."

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"Who do you think the world under his command now supplies the food and household goods markets of Ultramar and its surrounding sectors?!!! Curze?! Him?! He has learned to rule normally?! He can manage ?! He can still do market planning and interstellar trade!"

The former Imperial Chancellor quickly flipped through the data pad in front of him, eager to find some flaws or exaggerated data.

"Look, I told you that he is the same as that person. He must believe that children should follow the path they give. He just doesn't want to believe that children will grow up. He holds on to their knowledge and life experience and does not share it with his children. Then these What's the difference between things existing and not? It seems so incredible that children can learn to work, make money, and live well on their own without the need for their authoritative guidance - I have lived a vigorous life. I’ve died again in ten years, why can’t I learn these simple things in my second life?”

Konrad Curze crossed his arms with dissatisfaction and sat on the desk that originally belonged to Manius Calgar. His figure has now returned to the size of an average Space Marine from the thin ordinary youth before, with pale skin and long hair. It was dark and dangling on the edge of the table with its legs hanging down.

The Fortress of Hera is currently tight inside and loose outside, and guests are closed behind closed doors. Diglis is in charge of the overall situation and telling the outside world that they are fine. However, a true primarch here is still very considerate or lazy and treats Karl, who only has emergency wound treatment. Jia moved into this office and called it euphemistically, "This saves me from having to explain more so he doesn't think we lied to him again."

Since there is nothing wrong with this, others have acquiesced in this very casual behavior - strictly speaking, Coze can indeed exercise his rights here, but he still uses the teacher from Uthelma Atla. Julius, who learned here the primarch-level spell of using psychic energy to create a permanent outer body to maintain his demigod form, still asked his fellow disciple Arimando, the Grand Master of the Gray Knights, to pay more attention to Calgar's health.

"I really can't believe... you... you use your prophecy talent... only for farming?!" The former imperial prime minister once again made a crazy mistake, which made the original body of the Night Lord watch with relish and had a lot of hatred. Feeling a little repaid, "You... you captured the Phoenix Lord of the Eldas alive and didn't use her to exchange or attack anything... you used her as a sprinkler?!"

"Shh, be gentle, we have an Eldar guest in this fortress." Conrad Coze looked at the old man happily, "Let her hear that we sent people to harass our farmland and put Jain... It would be bad if Zal got her back, now they don't know she is there The children work for us, so my heirs can focus on trade expansion and commercial activities, and it is good to not have to worry about driving away the sneaky Eldar. I don't want to add extra workload, which will make the production Costs are rising.”

"I must be crazy to hear Konrad Curze spouting words like 'The Night Lords are engaged in business activities' and 'Production costs.'" Malcador wiped the bloating on his forehead. Small beads of sweat, "You were not born for this purpose!"

"Then you and he can't control it now." The Eighth Primarch chuckled, "I'm dead from any concept, and he can't control me."

"Besides." Julius gently intervened in the conversation at this moment, "In addition to the issue of franchise sales in specialty stores, I want to know even more."

His eyes were full of nostalgia, "How are the fathers? How is their appetite lately? Is the siege still going on?"

He used the present tense.

The ashen-faced chapter leader who had already been listening to the scene stared at him.